Waiting
by Hidden Willow
Summary: 4th Update---> Everything Lex has found for himself in Smallville is being threatened. Can he face his father without becoming him? (Lex/Lana)
1. Waiting

  
Title: Waiting (1/1)   
Author: Hidden Willow   
Email: willow4614@hotmail.com   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: L/L   
Summary: Lex and Lana keep each other company as they wait.   
Note 1: Post- Obscura. Everything afterwards never happened.   
Note 2: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.   
  
  
*********   


Lana looked at the entrance to the restaurant for the second time in the past minute. Drumming her fingers against the table in anxiety, she wondered how Clark had dragged her into this. 

He had convinced everybody, namely Lex, Chloe, and herself, that the Talon's increasing success against the Beanery was something to celebrate. Though, in her opinion it was just his way of trying to get his friends closer together. After all, he was the pretty much the only reason the other three came into contact with each other at all. 

So there she was, dressed in a simple pale blue dress, when all she could think about was the hollow ring to the word celebration. She had played dirty, gone to the mattresses as Lex had said, to get the Talon back to normal. 

Winning was nothing new. She had a bottom drawer filled with flimsy awards, buttons, and prizes to prove it. What was new was fighting fire with fire. Not exactly how she had lead her life so far. But now the new idea of fighting for what you wanted had gained merit. 

A lesson she had learned too late, she thought morosely as she watched her shaky reflection in the water of her glass. It wasn't just fighting, it was taking risks. Lana Lang was not a risk taker. Risks meant uncertainty and there was a feeling of comfort, of security, that went along with playing it safe. Something she had become extremely attached to. But it's also what kept her at bay her whole life. That was why Clark would be arriving with Chloe. 

Putting her fidgety hands flat against the table, she wondered how she was going to survive this dinner. She just had to get past her feelings. She could do that. She knew how to do that. 

Looking up at the entrance again, an uneasiness spread in her stomach as she meet the same empty space. Letting out a heavy sigh, she got up. The others were barely five minutes late, but that wasn't the issue. If she left right now maybe she could miss the whole evening. A simple excuse, either something involving her aunt or Whitney, would explain her absence. No one would question that. 

No one would know. Except for her. She would know what a coward she was for not being able to face two of her friends being happy. She had had that chance, but passed it by. Why? Why couldn't she be happy? The question left her with a familiar feeling of doubt as she heard a familiar voice call out to her. Looking up apprehensively, she found Lex had just arrived. 

She watched silently as he walked towards her. Her eyes focused at the point to his right, the entrance looking farther and farther away with each step. 

"Leaving already? I'm not that late am I?" The light danced across his eyes in amusement as he watched her standing there, out of place. 

Pulling herself together, she replied softly, "I thought no one was going to show up." Her eyes looked at him sharply as she waited for him to call her on her lie. 

"Well, I'm here now," he said pulling out her seat as though they met up for dinner every night. Smiling politely, she sat down. 

"So how's Whitney?" he began conversationally as he sat beside her. 

"He's doing pretty good considering," she nodded her head. 

"Well, he does have you." 

"Yeah," she smiled sadly at the thought. 

"You were there for him in his darkest hour. I don't think anyone could expect more," he said knowingly. 

"An expert are you?" 

"I know a few things." 

"None of which include my relationship with Whitney," she said defensively. 

"I know you," he stated simply. Seeing her eyebrows rise up at his bold statement, he added, "Moderately, anyway. I know enough to say the prospect of dinner this evening is making you uncomfortable." 

"Why would I be uncomfortable?" Her hand naturally drifted up to the glass of water as she asked. Her eyes closed as she took a slow sip, quietly hoping he would drop it. 

He either didn't notice or care about her unwillingness to talk as he pushed on. "Clark is with Chloe, not you." 

"And I'm with Whitney," her voice hoarse against his name. "So?" 

"It's like the tables have turned, isn't it? But Clark didn't let Whitney stop him." 

"Didn't he?" she asked honestly. 

"The only thing that stopped him was you. You weren't willing to take a chance and drop the trophy boyfriend and go after what you wanted." 

"I was never after-" Her head swiftly turned to face him, but her angry words fell away as she saw that he wasn't trying to antagonize her. What she saw was interest, maybe even concern. He wanted to understand or make her understand. She wasn't sure. 

"The moment passed. Clark and I-- nothing is going to happen. It's too late. He's with Chloe and they are very happy. And I'm glad. I couldn't expect him to--" she paused, caught up in emotion for a moment. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she ended firmly, "He's happy." 

He nodded his head in understanding. She didn't want anyone to get hurt. It was commendable, but ultimately all it would do was get herself hurt. 

Thankful that he was letting it go, she lowered her eyes to the table. The pattern on the table cloth became extremely interesting as she let the image burn into her mind. A wavering fingertip gently traced the sweeping lines and swirls as they sat in silence for a few minutes. 

"I hear she's going away to Metropolis over the summer," he announced casually. 

Lana shook her head in disbelief. "Why are you telling me this?" 

"I'm just saying it's not over," he offered up as if it was a small comfort. 

"Is there something you have against Chloe?" 

"I like Chloe. She's just not the right girl." 

"That isn't for you to decide. Though, the way you're involved in Clark's dating life, it looks like you both don't know it." 

"Just helping him out," he said dismissively, taking a sip of water. 

"A few favors from Lex Luthor isn't going to get him whichever girl he wants." 

He put down his glass and turned to her with a slightly self-deprecating smirk, "Clearly." 

"What I meant was--" 

"I know what you meant. I don't need to do these things for him. I want to see him happy, too." 

She looked at him, a question at the tip of her tongue before she thought better of it. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to know the answer. 

"Go ahead. Ask," he said leaning comfortably into his seat. 

"Alright," she agreed, straightening up in her chair. "What makes you think I'm better for him than Chloe? What makes me so special?" 

"Lana Lang and special are synonymous. Didn't you know that?" he teased. 

"Are you going by popular opinion or do you actually have a basis for this?" 

"Popular opinion never meant much to me. I'm going by my opinion and I have to say I'm a pretty good job of character. I need to be so trust me." 

"I'm not perfect," she protested. She barely felt like a decent human being with the guilt she was carrying. 

"Perfection is seldom interesting," he asserted. 

"Don't you strive for perfection?" 

"I strive for excellence. So just think how highly that speaks of the company I keep," he grinned. 

"You're about to have dinner with a bunch of highschool kids," she said pointedly. 

"Highschool kids that are more honest, more real, and more original than the people I deal with on a daily basis." 

"Doesn't sound like you think very highly of the people you work with. So what does that say about you?" she asked playfully. 

"Why don't you tell me?" 

"What?" 

"What do you think about me?" 

She felt slightly taken aback by his question. "I- I don't know. One thing I am sure of is that you're not the image of Lex Luthor I've had since I was a kid." 

"Yeah, these days I rarely go skinny dipping," he smiled widely causing her to smile in return. 

It was one of those rare, genuine smiles that hardly ever saw the light of day. Lana thought it was odd that being in her company could made him feel comfortable enough to be that open. 

Getting her focus back to the topic, she said wryly, "I also think you're a good friend to Clark. Maybe, sometimes too good." Knowing he wanted a more serious answer, she began thoughtfully, "I think you're..." 

"What?" 

"Trapped?" It came out unintentionally as a question as she looked up at him, her eyes slightly brighter than they had been a moment ago. Finding no telltale expression on his face, she elaborated, "Trapped by what people think of. Expect of you. It's almost impossible to get out it. Get past the image." 

"Sounds like something you know about," he remarked in a deceptively casual tone. 

"Maybe," her response noncommittal. 

"At least your image is a good one." 

"All that means is I'll eventually slip up and disappointment everyone," she said dejected. 

"For what it's worth, I don't see how that's possible." 

"It's worth a lot. Thank you." 

"Thank you for getting past the standard Smallville mentality. For the most part anyway. You are still a bit suspicious of me." He took another sip of his water as she looked at him in confusion. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You think I have a hidden agenda," he said matter-of-factly. 

"You're going to have to be more specific if you want me to have any idea what you're talking about." 

"Why do you think I helped you out with the Talon?" 

"It's a good investment. Hopefully. It's been doing good so far," she answered innocently. 

"That's it?" 

"Well, being friends with Clark was certainly in my favor. Probably suckered you into it, didn't he?" she joked. 

"I can't expect you to remember, but when you were 'under the influence'--" 

"Oh god. Not that day again. Did I say something incredibly stupid or offensive?" 

"It was actually rather enjoyable to see you so candid. Plus, there's all that blackmail potential. And they said I'd never find dirt on Lana." 

She tried to smile at that, but couldn't seem to get past what she might have said or done. He hadn't brought it up before now, but it had obviously been on his mind. "So what did I say?" she asked hesitantly. 

"You insinuated my intentions were less than pure when it came to helping you out. All in all not the first time I was accused of being a playboy..." 

"That's why you think--" 

"That your opinions haven't changed by much," he finished for her. 

"It's not that. Really. I did a lot of crazy things that day. I think, whatever the flower's effects, it made me want to prove something." 

"Prove what?" 

"This is going to sound crazy, but I felt like I had to prove I was real. That I could be imperfect." She laughed at herself, feeling self- conscious for telling him so much. She was sure that had come out sounding ridiculous. 

He was still taking in the words, a serious, thoughtful look on his face, as she felt herself detracting from it. "Though, who knows how much was the flower and how much was me, right?" As an afterthought, she added, "You know what would have been interesting? Seeing what you would have done if you have been infected." 

Remembering Lana's uninhibited behavior, he let out a small laugh. "I'm sure it would have been interesting." 

"I have to warn you, it's unsettling. The memory loss. Knowing there's a side of you other people know and you don't. And then there's the lovely benefit of a coma." 

"I haven't had a good night's sleep in ages." 

"So you're all set." 

"And to boot my run would leave me open for plenty of blackmail." 

"Without question. Don't worry. I would be as ladylike with your secrets as you were a gentlemen with mine." 

"Good to know there's someone who wouldn't sell me out to the newspapers." 

They looked at each other with genuine ease for the first time that evening just as Clark and Chloe made their way towards them. 

Seeing them, Lex and Lana got up as they reached them. The tardy pair seemed to be in a good mood as they tried to stop laughing so they could give in a decent greeting and apology. 

"Hey," Clark greeted. 

"We're sorry we're so late," Chloe apologized. 

"The Torch?" Lex guessed. 

"Yeah. Problem after problem sprouted up. But we handled it. It's actually a pretty funny story," Chloe said as she looked up to Clark for agreement. 

"Well, she didn't think it was very funny at the time. I thought she was going to throw her computer out the window." 

"Was not. Anyway, I didn't know it would take so long or we would have called. Before I knew it we were late." 

Lana shrugged. "It's no problem. It was just a few minutes." 

"More like twenty," Chloe exclaimed. 

"Lucky for me Lex isn't bad company." Lana offered a conspiratorial smile at him as she sat back down. 

Lex seemed lost for a moment in her comment before he sat beside her. 

Observing the exchange with scrutiny, Chloe turned to her new boyfriend for a reaction. He, however, didn't seem to notice anything unusual as they got into their seats. 

"Hope you didn't order without us," Clark said, already looking for a waiter. 

"He already knows what he wants," Chloe said amused. 

It was with a sinking feeling that Lex realized he already knew what he wanted, too. She was sitting right next to him in a pale blue dress.   
  
  
*************   
  



	2. Holding On

  
Title: Waiting -Part Two-   
Author: Hidden Willow   
Email: willow4614@hotmail.com   
Pairing: L/L   
Rating: PG   
Summary: Lex and Lana struggle with their respective decisions.   
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or the Smallville characters.   
Author's note: Forget what I said. "Tempest" does happen. This takes place a few days after "Waiting" and a few days before "Tempest". Thank you to all who left me such nice feedback =)   
  
  
*********   
  
He glanced outside the window for a moment, leaning gently against the frame. It was what others might consider a pretty view, but he rarely gave it much thought. For him a view should consist of something-- anything-- to look at and there wasn't much outside. There's wasn't much in Smallville. 

Nonetheless, it was a view that on most days calmed him. He had to admit the quiet, gentle mood of the town had seeped into him over the months. It was the kind of tranquility that never existed for a moment in Metropolis or in himself. 

But today the sky looked disgustingly beautiful. It was the shade of blue that got to him. Even when he closed his eyes the darkness gave way to that damned shade. 

Pushing away in disgust, he moved back to his desk intent on getting back to work. He had enough things on his mind as it was. 

Ignoring the blinking light of the phone, he settled himself into his chair and turned on his laptop. He already knew who had left the messages. For the past few days his work had consisted of fending off his father's attempts to lure him back to Metropolis. 

The very idea made him want to let out a bitter laugh. After being exiled to the ends of the Earth, his father wanted him to join him at his side once again. 

Not that any of his father's little games surprised him. It was only that each time left him more weary. He wasn't about to give up-- it wasn't that kind of weariness-- it was just that he felt like a part of himself fell away with every round. And in the end, he would be the last one standing, but really what would be left? 

What would be left? That was a good question, but one he never let himself answer on the several occasions that fear flitted through his anxious mind. It was only a fear. There was no certainty. There was no sense of doom. There was nothing. That's how he made it. 

But there were times when he genuinely felt he had a chance away from all that. He saw it in Clark. He had never met someone like him before. Someone so untouched it was as though no matter what happened he would never be corrupted. 

The very idea of someone like that was foreign to Lex. So eventually he put behind the swirling mystery surrounding the car crash because staying friends with Clark was more important. He could admit it. He was fueled by the foolish side of him that believed if he just spent enough time with Clark he'd have peace. Silence. Sometimes he almost believed things would be okay. 

Clark had that kind of calming effect on people. Lana was drawn to him for that very reason and all the reasons Lex had. They wanted to be saved. But would Clark be able to save them? Or would they have to save themselves? 

It was a question Lex pushed aside as he quickly typed in the password on his laptop as it finished booting up. His fingers grazed his brow as he waited impatiently for the page to load. At this rate he wouldn't be able to get anything done. His concentration had been shot all day as his mind ran between what to do with his father and trying to make sense of the feelings he had for one Lana Lang. 

It was with a sigh of frustration that he greeted the gentle tapping at his door. Taking it as a sign from the heavens that nothing would indeed be done today, he closed his laptop with an angry click. 

"Come in," he barked out. 

The door slowly pushed open as Lana came in. Sensing the tension in the room, she unconsciously pulled against the straps of her book bag. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," she said sincerely. 

"No worries," he said, quickly overcoming his surprise. He thought he was going to have time to sort things out in his head before he had to see her. He could only offer a hollow smile as he asked, "So what's the occasion for this rare visit?" 

Her eyes slide away from his, slightly disappointed from his empty greeting. It was with a shake of her head and an inward laugh that she pushed away her ridiculous disappointment. 

"I was in the neighborhood," she said with a shadow of smile, both knowing that wasn't likely. "Figured I'd stop by and give you a proper thank for you for treating us all to dinner the other night." 

"No problem," he said dismissively. "You guys need to save your money for the dance." 

"Clark told you about that?" 

"Didn't have to. It's a small town. I think the dance ranks up there as the biggest event in the past year." 

"A simple school dance top your arrival? Doubtful," she teased. 

"That's true," he joked. "You going with Whitney?" he asked casually. 

"Yeah." She waited a beat for the inevitable remark, but none came. No little comment about her boyfriend? That was new. 

"Dress all picked out?" 

"I have one in mind." 

"What color?" he asked, genuinely curious. 

"Blue." He could feel the edges of his mouth quirk up at the information, barely containing a very uncharacteristic dumb grin. 

"What? Do I wear that color a lot? Do I look bad in blue?" she asked concerned, her eyebrows furrowing with worry. That only seemed to amuse him more and agitate her in return. 

"Blue's perfect," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

Lana took his assurance skeptically, her eyes burning into him at the thought he was trying to pacify her. 

"I mean it," he added seriously as he reluctantly let his hand fall away. 

She nodded her head after a beat, feeling herself get sucked into the suddenly serious mood. 

The ringing of the phone broke the unusual spell over them, but Lex made no move to answer it. 

"Aren't you going to get that?" she asked, her eyes slipping past him to the phone. 

"It's my father," he said as way of explanation, his demeanor turning frigid. 

"Avoiding him?" 

"He wants me to go back to Metropolis," he stated. 

"Metropolis? But that's... not here," she ended dumbly just as the phone abruptly stopped ringing. 

"No, it isn't," he said dryly. 

"Well, I guess that's a good thing for you, right?" she said apprehensively. "But then why are you avoiding his calls?" 

"I've learned something early on. Whatever my father wants is most likely *not* in my best interest. This is no exception." 

"But isn't this what you wanted? To get out of here since day one?" 

"I've made my place here. He knows that." 

"So now he wants you back in Metropolis with him, why?" 

"I'm not doing things his way. He doesn't like that. He has certain... expectations. He wants me to be the kind of man he is." 

"Every father wants their son to walk in their footsteps." 

"It's more than that. If I'm not like him, if I'm not his heir, than I'm competition. Actually, I've always been both. *That's* why he wants me within grasp. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Lana," he ended coolly. Lex turned to sit down, waving a hand for her to do the same. 

Lana lowered herself down to the seat, disturbed by what he had said. She knew his relationship with his father was complicated, but she never thought it was this bad. 

"I doubt he thinks-" Lana began. 

"I rather not waste my time talking about him," he interrupted. "I have to deal with him soon enough as it is." 

She nodded slowly. If he didn't want to talk about it there wasn't a good chance she could get him to open up. 

Switching gears, he smiled apologetically. "So a dance, eh? Glad to see Whitney is up to that." 

"Oh, yeah," she continued reluctantly. "He's been doing great lately. The last couple of days he's been walking around so determined. Like he knows exactly what he wants out of life and how he's going to get it," she said, her enthusiasm dipping with each word. 

"You think he's only pretended to come to terms with his father's death?" 

"No. I think he has accepted it, he really has. And I- you know when I first heard I thought I would be able to help him out because...I've been there." 

Her eyes were downcast as she spoke. He knew that even the small mention of her parents brought all the memories back. He understood that. 

"But I was so young when it happened. Whitney has 17 years of memories and it makes it that much harder. But he's handling everything so well. I never did. I still haven't." 

"What do you mean?" He asked, watching her carefully. 

"Look at me. I haven't let go. I thought I had, but I haven't." Her hand wavered up to her necklace unconsciously as she spoke before she even noticed. "This necklace. The Talon, even. I've been holding on so tightly to the things around me so nothing will change. And all I keep thinking back to is the person I could have been if things had gone differently. Maybe that person..." Maybe that person would have been strong enough, she thought to herself. She shook her head as she considered it. 

Standing up quickly, a trace of embarrassment on her face, she said, "I'm sorry. I keep doing that. I keep spouting my mouth about all these things to you. I don't know why." 

"It's okay, Lana." He was already on his feet as he spoke. Just as she turned to leave, he shouted out to confess, "I do, too." 

Turning back to him, her almond eyes looking at him curiously, she asked, "Do what?" 

"Wonder about the kind of person I could have been. I know if my mother had been around I would be a better person right now. I don't blame her for dying or for my failures, but I wonder. When I let myself." 

He rolled up his left sleeve to show her his watch. "My mother gave this to me." Lana's delicate fingers reached out to touch the face of the watch as she studied it. "The memories of her I cherish, but I can't let the past hold me back. I can't let it control me." 

"Control is important to you," she stated simply as her fingers slide away. 

His pulled his sleeve back down and said with slight disdain, "You make me sound like a robot." 

"No, it's a good quality. People have to control themselves. You can't let yourself get swept away every time you feel something," she said thoughtfully. "If you do you end up hurting everyone around you and yourself." The words barely found their way out as she found herself distracted by Lex's stare. Had she said something wrong? 

He looked at her in surprise. She had said everything that had been on his mind all day. Wanting something despite better judgement, and knowing he'd have to let it go. But he knew she hadn't meant it that way. She probably meant Clark. She probably meant a lot of things. She kept so many things tucked away for fear of the unknown and the costly consequences. Control was important to her, too. 

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't ever let yourself get swept away," he responded. 

"When was the last time you were?" she countered. 

"Oh, it feels just like yesterday," he smiled secretively. 

She smiled ruefully. "I should probably go. You have a lot of work to get back to." 

"It was nice seeing you." 

"Yeah, you too," she said softly. 

"Lana," he called out as she headed for the door. She turned and looked at him expectantly. There were a dozen things he wanted to say. "Let me know how the dance goes," he said instead. 

"Sure." She paused as she reached out for the doorknob. "You're father...you really aren't like him. Don't let him make you think differently." 

She was down the steps and out the door in an instant. She sighed in relief as she met the cool, clean air of the afternoon. 

She could still feel the pounding of her heart that had been echoing loudly inside her all day. She wanted out of the life she had set up for herself, but she didn't know if she could let go. 

Lex was trying, though. He was fighting against the future his dad had guided him towards for so many years. But in those years, traces of Lionel had grown in him in the form of bitterness and contempt. It was exactly what could lead him in his father's footsteps. She just hoped he learned how to let go, too.   
  
  
*******  



	3. Letting Go

  
  
  
Title: Waiting -Part Three-   
Author: Hidden Willow   
Email: willow4614@hotmail.com   
Pairing: L/L, but heavy on the Lana/Whitney for this chapter   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Lex and Lana struggle with their respective decisions.   
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or the Smallville characters.   
Author's note: Press fast forward. This takes place in the thick of "Tempest" so lines come from that episode.   
  
  
*********   
  
The gravel of the road crackled against the tires as Whitney drove them to the station. It was only a twenty minute drive there and most of that time he had spent looking numbly through the windshield. 

She was sure something was supposed to be in the air between them besides the storm that was picking up. But all she felt was the little electrical spark in the air, that soft humming that drilled itself in her head. A warning. A crackle. A protest. 

She had felt the little warning inside of her all week. She knew something had been going on with Whitney. It only took a picnic to confirm it. He was leaving. 

All day she had clung to Whitney's form, playing for the last time the part of the loyal girlfriend. It felt like a lie to her and she couldn't imagine how it could feel like anything else to him. But now that it really mattered, now that it was almost time for goodbyes, she was as distant as possible. But that didn't feel honest, either. 

He had asked her to wait. The inevitable question. Who would she lie to? Herself or to him? How real could they be together, anyway? How real had they ever been? Real enough to hurt. 

And she hurt like hell. There it was again. That twisting hole beneath her that threatened to swallow her whole. That's exactly how it had felt when she had told him she couldn't wait for him. She couldn't keep herself swathed in his comfort. She had to escape or they'd both regret it forever. 

She hadn't told him that. How could she? But she told him enough. She didn't know if they could survive time. She wasn't sure they would have survived if he had stayed. She had made a decision not unlike the one he had made. She wouldn't keep standing still. She couldn't wait. Not anymore. Maybe, if things had been different... 

As the pickup pulled into the station she felt his weight shift as the engine died down. He turned to face her. And even now she saw understanding shine through his eyes. He believed in them in a way she was sure she never could. It almost made it a little easier to let go. 

She was determined to make this as easy as she could. She hated goodbyes. She hated losing people. She hated the feel of falling and no one to catch her. 

"Do you have everything?" she asked, failing at her attempt to sound upbeat. 

"You're only allowed one bag." 

"I'd never make it as a Marine," she joked. Her words rushing past her lips with unusual ease. 

The warmth of the joke faded and she could see his eyes dim. She turned away from him, her eyes downcast as she felt the sparks in the air crackle once again. 

*It wasn't a goodbye* The soft intake of a breath said differently. 

This was the right thing to do. She knew that. But there was something about all this that felt so wrong. She didn't want to leave him. And it wasn't because of old habits or having a hand to hold on a hard day that made her feel like hiding. 

A lump formed inside her throat as she saw him trying to come up with what to say. The only thing that kept her focused was the suddenly heavy weight of her necklace against her skin. She felt a shadow of an idea stir before a click went off in her head. 

Swallowing down her nerves, her hands went up behind her neck searching for that clasp. 

She knew he meant so much to her even if she couldn't form it into words. She wouldn't leave him without somehow letting him know. He deserved so much more a compromise when it came to her heart. 

"I want you to have this for luck." She couldn't feel anything as she placed the necklace in his palm. It was easier to let the feelings slip away and fall before they could reach her. It was the only way to be strong. 

He looked at her with a touch of surprise before the sentiment sank in. They had never been good with words. They were fumbling little things to Whitney and they always made her feel like she was walking through a minefield. That was why she was so careful with her words and he always relied on action to show what he couldn't say. 

But now it was her turn to show him. And it was a chance to say goodbye, not only to him, but to everything she should have let go of before. It seemed fitting that she was giving away the thing that had caused her so much pain... death in a fiery ball, loss, fear, missed chances... but had lead to the bits of happiness she had found in life... Nell, Whitney, Clark, Chloe, Lex... If everything could have been compressed any further than a piece of meteorite she just might have cried right then and there. 

He closed his palm against the green, shiny piece of her past. 

"I won't lose it this time," he promised. 

She smiled softly at that. Despite what he thought, he had never really disappointed her. And she knew he never would. 

The sinking hole beneath her rumbled. Steady, Lana. But it was too late. The thought was already out there. Was she really going to lose him? 

The same thought seemed to go through his mind as he pulled her into an embrace, his eyes tightly shut as he held her. She could feel him breathe in the scent of her hair. The hammering of her heart pounded harder as she felt her throat close in with the threat of tears. 

She hated crying almost as much as she hated goodbyes. 

"Goodbye, Lana," he said before he let go. 

She didn't reply. 

*Not a goodbye* 

She watched quietly as he got out and took his bag out from the back. She pushed herself into the driver's seat, her eyes fixed on him as he headed towards the bus. 

*Not a goodbye* 

But everything in her screamed that it was and she could feel the steady wall she always leaned on fall apart. Who was she being strong for now? This wasn't strength. This was fear. This could be regret. 

He gave her a final look back at her as he set his bag down on the bus steps. 

*This was real* 

She quickly pushed the door open and ran to him. He met her half way, her arms instantly wrapping around him as she held him tightly. 

She wasn't going to hide from the pain. She couldn't protect herself from every bit that life had to offer. Isn't that what she was trying to move away from? 

"I loved you the first moment that I saw you. I'll still love you when I see you again," he told her over the roar of the spiraling air around them. It wasn't a promise or an assurance. It was simple truth. 

She loved him, too. Not the way he did, but enough for it hurt. There was always enough for that. 

They pulled away for a moment only to find themselves drawn into a kiss. She should have felt the warm comfort she always found in his familiar kiss, and she did, but she also felt something new. Underneath the tender kiss, there was a fervor there she had never felt with him before. It was like an explosion of everything they had never openly shared. If she had held back she never would have known. 

This was life. So this was life.   
  
  
*******  


A weary hand traveled up to her face as she tried to wipe off her tears without losing control of the car. 

She told herself she should have stayed in the station for a bit until she got a hold of her emotions, but there was nothing she wanted more than to get back home. 

Home sounded good. Getting out of her dirty clothes, changing into something soft and light, and curling up to read a book. It was an escapist pastime of hers just like a long line of others, but this wasn't one she was ready to give up just yet. 

Though, this time it seemed like she'd need more than a good book. Maybe hot chocolate and an old movie, she thought to herself as she felt another trail of tears wind down her face until the salty sting of tears edged into her mouth. 

She blinked once. Twice. Three times. Willing the tears to stay in her glossy eyes and not drop anywhere else unless she said so. 

She focused on the road again and the rest of her surroundings. It wouldn't do any good by getting into an accident. 

The outside world didn't seem to be faring any better than she was. The sky was dark and menacing, lined up with angry clouds that sparked with charged up energy. 

Despite that, she didn't feel threatened by the growing ugly weather. It was only with the unexpected peal of thunder to her left that she felt a little spooked. 

Her head turned sharply to the left as she looked out of the window, caught up in the lightening and debris outside, before she pulled her eyes back to the road. 

She shook her head, commanding herself to get it together. A slightly angry left then right hand tried to comply as her fingers swiped away the tears. 

The tears were coming back, though, in full force. It was the sudden fear in her blood that was causing that little bit of control in her to fall to pieces. 

She tried blinking back her tears again, but to no avail. Maybe, that was way she couldn't see what was coming right towards here at a startling speed. 

Whatever the reason, Lana barely had the chance to identify the row of mailboxes for what they were before they crashed into the car. 

A frightened shriek escaped out of her as she felt the impact. She tried to control the car as it swerved across the road, but it was beyond her control. 

She felt the tires swing across the pavement violently before the car landed hood first into a ditch. Her head flung forward with the impact, but was held back from colliding into the windshield by her seatbelt. She had been spared from a nasty concussion, but as she lifted her hand to brush away the hair in her face she realized the rest of her body didn't feel so lucky. 

All she knew was she wanted out of the damned car. She felt the hysteria inside her rise as her breathing became more erratic. With a blind hand she grappled with the door handle in terror before she felt the open air around her as she stumbled out. 

The ground beneath her was almost a welcome comfort as she felt herself fall down. Hands reaching towards the next foot of earth, her legs dragging behind her, she crawled away from the car before she got back up on her feet. 

The wind outside was worse than she thought. She couldn't see a thing with the way the wind was wrapping her hair around her face like a mask. Turning her head, the sharp strands fall away enough for her to see. 

But she didn't see it at first. She heard it. That sickly sound. Like the roar of a freight train approaching. But it wasn't that at all. 

Her mouth gaped in horror as she took in the sight of the three tornado funnels roaming towards her. She was sure there was something she was trying to get out of her suddenly dry mouth, but no noise escaped. 

She watched in shock as the tornado picked apart the earth with ease as it tumbled toward her. It was like staring right into the universe. It was unyielding, powerful, and forever. It felt like forever. 

The horrible, familiar feeling of death loomed in front of her. Years ago something from the heavens had unexpectedly snatched away her parents. Had it come back for her? 

No, this wasn't happening. This wasn't allowed to happen. Not now that she had regained control over her life. Not now that she had a chance. She was supposed to break away from her past, not fall into it. 

God, not now. Not in a way that had terrified her since she was little. 

She needed more time. She still hadn't gotten out of Smallville. She still didn't know who she was. She needed more time to become closer friends with Chloe. Needed to find out Clark's mysterious little secrets. She needed to thank Lex for believing in her. 

She could feel the bile in her throat rising. At the moment there were no assurances. Just the vivid reality twisting ahead of her at 200 mph. 

She took a few steps back in blind fear. She looked around frantically for some place to take shelter. But there was nothing there to protect her. *No one* to protect her. 

She continued walking backwards until she felt the truck against her back. Dazed, she reached for the car door and got in. 

She knew better. A life in Kansas has taught her about tornadoes and emergency procedure. Outside. Ditch. Lie. Flat. 

But it was all nonsensical to her right now. Everything was lost in the hazy blur of desperation. She wasn't going to get out of this alive. 

The car that only moments before she had inwardly cursed at was the only place in the bleak stretch around her that felt mildly safe. 

And right now emotion won over logic. 

A distraught laugh erupted from her as she remembered her cell phone. It was an extremely slim chance, but it was all she had. There was no way she could outrun the tornado. 

Her fingers frantically punched in the buttons, silently begging for it to work. There wasn't a signal, but she couldn't get herself to give up without trying. The frustration soon caught up to her as she angrily threw the phone at the dashboard. 

She watched helplessly as the three tornado funnels merged into one. Crossing the field, it grew dark with debris before it reached the barn behind her. Just as easily as a tide washed away a sandcastle, the tornado swept it away. 

All she could see was the twisted expanse of wind and sky. All she could hear was the deafening howl as it got closer. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this.   
  
  
  



	4. Falling Apart

  
  
**Title:** Waiting - Part Four   
**Author:** Hidden Willow   
**Email:** willow4614@hotmail.com   
**Website:** http://www.geocities.com/hiding_behind_the_willow   
**Summary:** Everything Lex has found for himself in Smallville is being threatened. Can he face his father without becoming him?   
**Archive:** Envision and Hazardous can take it if they want   
**Feedback:** Just because you saw this happen on the show doesn't mean you can shirk your feedback duties! I need input!   
**A/N:** I honestly didn't think I'd continue with this story, but I had a change of heart. Big thank you to all who gave me feedback for the last chapter.   
**A/N2:** L/L interaction isn't in the cards just yet.   
  
  
*********  
  
  


Lex tightly gripped the edge of the desk as he leaned forward, letting the dull pain it caused center him. The tension in his body was growing, spiraling out of control in his gut. He could feel his jaw clench, the small line of his mouth set into a disdainful frown. 

He didn't have the time nor the luxury of letting his worries get the best of him. Forcefully, he pushed away from the desk as he pushed his emotions away. 

His right hand found its way to the back of his neck as he turned towards the window. He could almost feel the blood beneath his skin pounding. Rubbing the back of his neck, he let his strained muscles slowly relax, though his face held firm his look of resolve. It was the only comfort he could offer himself right now. 

Comfort. That was a word that wasn't common in the Luthor family. Luxury, of course, was never a problem. But comfort, the kind you found in an honest smile or in the most understanding eyes you'd ever seen... 

A barely audible growl escaped his lips at where he found his mind was heading. Now was not the time. 

He stopped kneading the ache in his neck as he grabbed another folder filled with information from his desk. After staring at them for the past week, the abbreviations and percentages made little sense to him anymore. 

Just like the idea of trying to reason with his father. Lionel didn't have an interest in bargaining. All he did was tell him that soon his son would see his way was the right way. What did it matter to him what happened to the people in Smallville? Business was business. He had always taught him that. 

But Lex wasn't one for letting his father's words of wisdom sink in too deeply. He listened, he learned, he put it into use, but he tried not to become cold and empty by believing in any of it too much. Despite what his father thought, there *were* people out there in the world you could trust and depend on. And more importantly, there were people out there that could trust and depend on *him*. 

Or at least that's what he used to think. Now he wasn't so sure. 

Afterall, Lana had yet to show up once to show her support. 

Even though he wouldn't admit it to himself, some part of him had foolishly been expecting her to stop by. Maybe she would have smiled at him sympathetically, telling him she knew he'd figure a way out of this. Or maybe she would have told him point blank to stop wasting time by feeling sorry for himself. She could be surprising like that. 

But she hadn't shown up at all which was more surprising. Had he been wrong to think they had become close enough for any of that? She was friendly to everyone. Why did he think he had any special distinction in her mind? 

And then there was Clark. 

Although, he could be loyal to a fault, his trust in Lex was another matter. How many accusations had he thrown at him over the months? How many times had his half-hearted apologies contradicted the angry words he had spit out days before? 

Maybe that was what was paining him the most. His father was ruining one of the most important things Smallville had given to him. That belief that he could be trusted, he could be cared for, he could be loved. 

How could anyone believe in him now? He was responsible for letting everything go to hell. The plant. Nixon. All of it. 

The imaginary hourglass in his head was telling him time was running out. And this time all the little tactics and manuevers his father had taught him weren't going to get him out of this one. Because this time he was going against his own father, the man who pulled out all the stops. For Lex to win he had to "bring it to a whole different level" as his father so succinctly put it. 

Playing dirty wasn't the problem. That was in his blood. But there had always been limits. God knew his father never taught him how to stay between the lines. All he had ever had was his conscience and that had faltered on several occasions. 

The question was how bad did he want to win this time? How far was he willing to go to salvage what he had found here? And if he managed to save the day, would it even matter? His belief in his friends and himself was already on the verge of destruction. 

If that happened then all he truly had was his father and the path he had set in front of him. But even so, even if nothing was left, he would never follow his father. Never. 

All he could hope for now was that it never came to that. He had to mend everything that had been broken in the past days. Starting with Nixon's attempt to ruin the Kents. 

He threw down the useless folder of data and went for the container he had been keeping the alloy in. At least he had one thing under his control. But as he flipped the container open, there was no assurance in the form of the octagonal metal. 

He felt the fear begin to trail down his spine, but he wasn't ready to accept it. It was somewhere near him. Misplaced in a desk drawer, located on the bookshelf by his copy of Dante's Divine Comedy, or who knows where else. It was somewhere. 

His eyes said differently as they swept over his desk, unable to find a hint of that shade of gray. The reality of it all didn't have the chance to inspire panic in him before a rush of anger and frustration hit him. Swatting the empty container out of the way, his troubled hands fumbled over the papers and folders trying to shake out something that wasn't there. 

There was only one place it should have been. And it wasn't there. 

When had he stopped being so careful? 

The shadows of the room flickered, almost teasing him, as the lightening beared down outside. He felt, more than saw, the flashes of light, as his rage heated him from the inside. He didn't pay attention as he felt panic begin to set in his chest. Fueled by denial, he went to the bookcase, throwing down everything that lined the shelf. The books fell with an angry, dull thud against the floor, barely missing his feet. 

"Damn it, Nixon!" he cursed, more angry at himself than anything else. How had he allowed anyone to push him into a corner? 

Another roar of thunder pealed outside as the doors swung open. His father appeared before him, a picture of power and balance while the world twisted and turned outside. 

"So...you're using your mother's stock to fund the buyout. That's your secret source," Lionel said, his eyes sparkling with arrogance at the newly acquired information. 

'Knowledge is power, Lex.' 'Ignorance is your first enemy.' Echoes of the lessons his father had given him. They were the only things his father had ever offered. Not exactly what a motherless boy needed, but they had become his weapons, his armor. And in time, Lex had learned well. 

"I must admit, it's a bold move, Lex. But it won't work!" Lionel said, trying to bait a response out of his son, as he walked towards him. 

Lex spared him an annoyed glance as he walked past him. "Did you brave the weather to tell me that?," he asked cooly as he ignored him in favor of the small bookcase at the other end of the room. This wasn't the time for a lesson. Those days were over. His father failed to realize he had nothing left to teach, nothing left to offer. 

Seeing his son wasn't taking him seriously, he implored, "It's suicide, Lex! You may get the plant, but you're putting your employee's homes on the line. Forfeiting your own future!" 

Forfeiting the future his father had in mind, not the one he was after. Though, both of them were crumbling at his feet. But if he had a choice he knew which one he'd make. He wouldn't let himself be controlled by Nixon, his father, or anyone else. 

"Or forging a new destiny free from you!" he shouted out venomously, turning to face him. 

"You're not my enemy. You're my son," the older man said, his words punctuated with disbelief. 

Lex gave a small, cold smirk as he saw the realization begin to dawn on his father. "I never saw the distinction." 

He didn't allow himself the pleasure of watching the emotions move across his father's face, instead opting to recheck the bookcase by his desk. Finding nothing but the same books and mantel pieces, he angrily slapped them aside with one sweeping gesture of his hand. Determined, he moved to the table behind his desk, quickly searching it before moving on to the bookcase beside it. 

His father followed him relentlessly. Having already recovered from Lex's bitter words, Lionel's voice was raised and authoritative as he told him, "When Alexander the Great was dying, his generals asked who he would leave his empire to. If he would appoint a successor, it would keep the legacy intact...prevent generations of bloodshed! His answer was simple-- I leave it to the strongest." 

If he was trying to appeal to Lex's desire to keep Smallville intact, then he was giving him the wrong history lesson. He turned to his father, standing only inches from him, nose to nose, he spat out, "I believe the term is 'Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!'" 

Incensed, Lionel grabbed him by the neck and jerked him forward. In a threatening tone, he promised, "I'll bury you and everyone in Smallville who takes your side!" 

That was something to laugh at. There was no one left to stand by him, his father had made sure of that. 

He raised his arms and violently parted them, roughly breaking his father's hold, as a powerful rush of wind burst through the windows. The force of the tornado shattered the glass into pieces and sent the two men spiraling into the opposite sides of the study. 

Lex slid across the polished floor, hitting a bookshelf that toppled down on him. His father, from the other side of the room, struggled to get up just as one of the columns sustaining the ceiling gave out. 

The elder Luthor cried out in fear as he saw the column about to fall on him, but was spared from being completely crushed as it fall upon the chair behind him preventing it from going down any further. He found himself pinned down, but otherwise undamaged. Unfortunately, his situation was only growing worse as the support beam from the ceiling collapsed, it's jagged end hovering dangerously above him. 

"Lex! Help me, Lex! Lex! I can't...move!" 

He could hear his father calling out to him as he forcefully pushed the bookcase off himself. As he got back on his feet, Lex could feel the sting of broken skin above his right eye. The trickle of blood caused an odd sensation as it moved down his face, somehow overpowering the ache of the bruises he could feel forming all over his body. He let his hands clutch his head for a moment, still stunned from the impact. Sweat and blood clouded his vision as he looked in front of him to see a slightly blurred form of his father. 

His once powerful father lay before him, reduced to an ordinary, mortal man as he weakly begged for help. The debris of the demolished study whirled around them, the deafening echo of the wind competing with his father's cries. Despite that, Lex couldn't help but feel strangely detached from his chaotic surroundings as he found himself slowly walking over to him, a chill begining to form inside of him. 

"Help me! Lex!" Lionel's hand reached out to him, "Son..." 

Lex stood immobile now, his face an icy mask as he watched the man plead to him as a father would to a son. But it was an analogy that didn't fit with the relationship they shared. 

His eyes were hauntingly empty as his mind flitted through the ghastly possibilities. It would be so simple, so horribly simple, to just stand by and let it all happen, so much easier than searching within him the will to push himself into action. 

'Prevent generations of bloodshed' 

It resonated in his head. If it was really a question of what would be for the best then it would be this. It was a traitorous thought, even to his own ears, but it was true to the core. 

His thoughts must have been evident in his face the way his father looked up at him in fright, as though looking straight into the eyes of a monster. If he was any kind of monster he wondered what that made his father. 

'You really aren't like him' 

The memory of Lana's words hit him unexpectantly, causing a sharp intake of breath. 

She had been wrong. Maybe, in the end, he had little choice but to become his father's son. It wasn't what he wanted. He was doing all this to stop him! But his own father had looked at him in fear knowing what he was capable of. This was what he was! If he had to be a monster, he would at least be one on his own terms. 

'You really aren't like him. Don't let him make you think differently.' 

The memory surfaced again, stubbornly refusing for him to dismiss it. Her voice this time almost pleading with him, despite the fact she hadn't said it to him like that. 

He could have easily let her words go, but for the fact she had told him so honestly and so simply what no one else had ever truly believed before. Not even Clark. 

Someone believed in him. That was worth everything. 

With that thought, he rushed to his father's aid, hoping it wasn't too late.   
  
  



End file.
